


Shame on Me

by orphan_account



Category: due South
Genre: Humiliation, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser tries to get off the hedonic treadmill of thinking about his kink long enough to actually ask for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shame on Me

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, they really should have had a bit of a Conversation and probably some negotiating instead of just jumping into it. Luckily, the fall won't hurt them.

The nature of Fraser’s desires is such that he will probably never really know if it was an honest mistake that allowed Ray to discover the true nature of his basest needs. They’d been having sex for several weeks, but it seemed like their new relationship had no real starting point, as far as Fraser could determine. Somehow, they had added sex to their friendship and partnership, and it was almost enough for Fraser. He tried to chide himself for being greedy, but chiding himself only put him back where he started.

It came to a head one night while they were sitting on a stakeout, Ray fidgeting and making bored conversation. He seemed incensed that an NBA franchise had made what Ray considered to be an ill-advised trade; Fraser had lost track of the details.

“…so it’s like, they finally won a game and then decided that winning wasn’t really their style, so the made the Dumbest Trade Ever, now they’re stuck with this guy, and he fucking sucks, he shoulda never even been drafted in the first place.”

“Hmm, it seems as though they have a rather ambiguous attitude toward victory,” Fraser said absently.

“Thank you!” Ray exclaimed. Fraser was relieved; apparently he’d made the right response. “Just ‘cause they won the title the following year doesn’t mean that trading Malone before he’d even played a single game with Portland wasn’t a dumbass move. The guy went MVP like, what, three times?”

Perhaps Fraser had not been following as closely as he thought. “Karl Malone?”

Ray looked at him as though his elevator had stopped well below his collarbone. “Moses Malone, you freak. I’m so bored I’ve been time-traveling to the seventies for trades that sucked on a…you know, historical level.”

“Ah. Forgive me for being distracted,” Fraser apologized.

“Never mind,” Ray said. “It’s a dumb conversation. Well, more like a dumb monocle, since I haven’t exactly been generous in my conversational spirit here.”

“Monologue,” Fraser said automatically, then gave Ray a closer look. Ray had used the wrong word on purpose, just to give Fraser something to say. Ray grinned.

“There ya go, Fraser, saving me from embarrassing myself.”

Fraser shifted in his seat. “Perhaps a change of topic?” Fraser knew what he wanted to hear, and also knew that in order to hear it, he’d have to ask Ray to talk about something Ray would probably rather forget.

“Sure,” Ray said absently, using the nightvision binoculars to look toward a warehouse that gave every appearance of being deserted, an appearance Fraser suspected was not merely superficial. “Whatchya got in mind?”

“Tell me about the bank,” Fraser said softly.

Ray lowered the binoculars in irritation. “Again with the bank. The most humiliating experience of my life,” he said, disgusted.

Fraser shifted again. “It helped you win Stella’s heart,” he said.

“Thank you, Pollyanna,” Ray snapped. “In a Lifetime movie villain kinda way: through lies, deceit and shame.”

Fraser tried not to squirm too noticeably.

“And later, the heartbreak…some days I wonder if it was worth it. Plus all those years of pretending I humiliated myself on purpose.”

Fraser let out a breath so harsh it was nearly a moan. Hopefully, Ray hadn’t….

“Jesus, Fraser, does hearing about me pissing myself amuse you?”

“No!” Fraser didn’t want Ray to believe that. Amusement was the last thing he felt about the situation; hearing the story was simply a way to hear Ray use certain words….

“You sure?” Ray demanded suspiciously. “’Cause whenever I tell it, you get all squirmy, which makes me think maybe you have a thing.” 

“I do not have a ‘thing’ for pubescent boys or any aspect of their urination,” Fraser said truthfully. He was beginning to worry, however, that Ray would figure out exactly what he did have a “thing” for. Or perhaps he was more worried that Ray would never figure it out and he would never be able to tell Ray explicitly what his "thing" was.

“So you’re conning me into talking about this because….” Ray looked at him, and nightvision aides aside, Fraser knew he was seeing too much. 

“There are certain words,” Fraser confessed. “Words you use to tell the story….”

Ray was thinking about this. “I’m saying something that’s turning you on,” he said, slowly translating what Fraser said into what Fraser meant. Fraser blushed and adjusted himself some more. “You’re squirming like you’ve gotta go, but it’s not about pissing; I talk about that all the time. It’s certainly not about gun-toting bank robbers threatening to take hostages; you hate that shit.”

Fraser was starting to pant, barely holding back moans as Ray got that much closer to…exposing him.

“It’s the words, huh? Words like, I dunno, maybe ‘humiliation’?” Fraser did moan aloud at that. “Shame,” Ray said, and it wasn’t a question at all, but a statement. Fraser groaned again, reaching down to adjust himself in a way that could not be mistaken for anything but the accommodation of physical arousal.

“You get off on me being ashamed and humiliated?” Oh dear, Ray was about to get even testier.

But Ray was, instead, slowly putting it together. “It’s the words themselves,” he realized. “Shame. Humiliation.”

Fraser let his head tilt back to hit the headrest.

“Someone’s got a kink,” Ray said, sing-song. Fraser muttered something.

“I didn’t quite catch that, Fraser,” Ray said, sounding smug. On the one hand, Fraser couldn’t believe he’d allowed the conversation to get this far. On the other, Ray had been very patient, knew that their sex life was great but that Fraser was holding back; Ray was willing to push Fraser so far but no further.

“Come on, Benton Fraser, share with the class,” Ray said, his voice convincingly, thrillingly strict.

“Shame,” Fraser muttered. “Humiliation.”

Ray put a hand on the back of Fraser’s neck. Fraser leaned against his casually dominant touch. “You like those words, don’t you? You like them a lot.”

“I do,” Fraser whispered.

“But not because you want me to feel ashamed and humiliated. These days, any road, you generally go out of your way to make sure I don’t feel like that,” Ray sounded sure of what he was saying, but there was an underlying hesitancy. Ray nearly had the answers, but possibly had no idea what to do with them.

“You never should,” Fraser said. “You have nothing to be ashamed or humiliated about,” he added, not able to control the way his voice became eager as he used those words

“But you think you do,” Ray surmised. “You carry your shame around like you carry your hat around.”

“I do,” Fraser said, once more whispering. This time Ray didn’t make him repeat himself, although Fraser almost wished he would.

“I’ve heard about this,” Ray said. “Some guys like being humiliated, like being made to feel ashamed. Maybe not in everyday life, but when they’re in bed….”

Ray didn’t need to finish the sentence. He knew how inhibited Fraser could be, and now he was realizing that, whenever they were together, Fraser always needed to be pushed. Now, Fraser hoped, he was figuring out that Fraser needed to be pushed through the shame of his own arousal, the humiliation of being controlled by his physical needs.

Fraser nodded.

“That’s what’s been missing,” Ray said, confident now. “I say ‘shame.’ I say ‘humiliated,’ and just hearing the words makes you hot for it.”

Fraser blushed furiously, even as his cock was even harder in his jeans, was starting to leak into the fabric of his undershorts.

Ray used the hand he still held at Fraser’s neck to force Fraser’s head around to meet his eyes. It was dark, but there were enough isolated streetlights to let Fraser see Ray’s fondness for him.

“Freak,” Ray said, but it was a term of endearment. Fraser nodded, and Ray nodded back at him. Ray stroked his thumb down the side of Fraser’s throat, and Fraser’s hips jerked up involuntarily.

“So,” Ray said, his tone conversational, as though he intended to change the subject. He pulled the warmth of his hand away from Fraser’s neck, the pressure of thumb away from Fraser’s throat. Fraser moaned at the loss, barely noticing that Ray’s hand wasn’t leaving his body, but drifting down across his chest.

“What’s it like having a humiliation kink?” Ray asked in that same conversational tone. “When you wake up in the morning and realize that you get turned on by being ashamed, does that make you all humiliated and embarrassed and horny all at once?”

So many words, coming from Ray, such perfect words, said so easily, as though Fraser’s desires were something to be taken out and examined and analyzed with cool, clinical methodology, albeit in Ray’s own idiosyncratic manner.

“Do you wake up and think, ‘oh, today’s the day I’m going to finally tell Ray about this,’ only you get so distracted thinking about how ashamed that conversation is going to make you feel? So ashamed that it might make you come before you even finish telling me what you need?” Fraser had finally noticed that Ray’s hand was resting on the bulge of his erection. “How ashamed you feel that you need this?”

And Ray’s hand was now pressing on him, hard, and those words, and the new word, “need,” made Fraser push his hips up against Ray’s hand, helpless in his arousal.

“And then you get off just thinking about telling me, and then you tell yourself how shameful that is, right there, and so you never bring it up to me,” Ray’s voice sounded almost sad for Fraser, that he had held out on Ray for so long. “Because you think I can’t make you feel nearly as ashamed as you make yourself feel,” Ray concluded.

Fraser was panting, shaking and gasping, as he tried to get yet more friction and pressure from Ray’s hand.

“But I think you know I can,” Ray said, sounding smug and more than a little aroused. “Yeah, you’re feeling it now,” he continued as Fraser bucked up against Ray’s hand.

“Because,” Ray said, pushing down as Fraser pushed up, “if you think the words are shameful and humiliating, just think what it will feel like for you to get off right now and have to sit there for the rest of the stakeout, knowing you came in your pants. Seems like that,” and here Ray’s voice got just a little bit harsher and his hand got a little more busy, “that would be pretty much a shame right there.”

Fraser came in his pants at that, and the humiliation coursed through him, with white hot perfection.


End file.
